11 years later, justice for slain singer Zapata

DNA sample helps convict Miami man of murder

Published 9:00 pm, Thursday, March 25, 2004

Mia Zapata, lead singer of the punk band The Gits, was murdered on Capitol Hill in 1993.

Mia Zapata, lead singer of the punk band The Gits, was murdered on Capitol Hill in 1993.

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Steve Moriarty, drummer for The Gits, and Emily Marsh, after the guilty verdict. "I'm just glad that he'll be rotting in prison," Moriarty said of Jesus Mezquia.

Steve Moriarty, drummer for The Gits, and Emily Marsh, after the guilty verdict. "I'm just glad that he'll be rotting in prison," Moriarty said of Jesus Mezquia.

Photo: Karen Ducey/Seattle Post-Intelligencer

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Jesus Mezquia, 49, found guilty of Mia Zapata's murder, faces between 22 and 30 years in prison.

Jesus Mezquia, 49, found guilty of Mia Zapata's murder, faces between 22 and 30 years in prison.

Photo: KOMO-TV

11 years later, justice for slain singer Zapata

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A King County jury laid to rest yesterday a sad mystery that hung over Seattle's music scene for more than a decade, convicting a Florida fisherman of killing up-and-coming punk-rock singer Mia Zapata.

In the end, the answer to her long-unsolved slaying -- which inspired benefit concerts and efforts from the local music community to find her killer -- came down to a trace of DNA and jurors who discussed and fought but ultimately agreed that Jesus Mezquia was guilty of first-degree murder.

It was a verdict that Zapata's friends and family had wanted to hear since July 7, 1993, when the spunky lead singer for The Gits was found strangled and left along a Seattle street.

"I'm just glad that he'll be rotting in prison, and that we'll be able to live a little bit freer lives," said Steve Moriarty, drummer for The Gits.

A devoted group of Zapata's friends, many of them wearing black sweat shirts emblazoned with the name of her band, exchanged relieved hugs and rubbed damp eyes.

Zapata's brother, Eric, said it was "very satisfying for this to finally be behind us." He still admires the way his sister touched so many lives -- and still remembers how she used to lock herself into her room as a kid, trying to shut out his teasing as she practiced singing and strumming the guitar.

"Knowing someone like Mia helps us all be better people in the end," he said.

Mezquia, 49, now faces between 22 and 30 years in prison, though King County deputy prosecutors Tim Bradshaw and Steve Fogg plan to ask for a stiffer punishment because of what Zapata had to endure.

"I think there was unbridled cruelty that ought to be recognized in the sentence," Bradshaw said.

Local filmmakers who've worked on a documentary about The Gits will put together a short film about Zapata's life and hope to play it at Mezquia's sentencing before Superior Court Judge Sharon Armstrong, according to Moriarty.

A sentencing date has not been set.

Zapata, 27, was last seen about 2 a.m. on Capitol Hill after spending much of the evening with friends at the Comet Tavern. She was wearing cut-off jeans, heavy boots and her black "The Gits" sweat shirt.

Her body was found about 3:20 a.m. in the 100 block of 24th Avenue South. Someone had assaulted and raped her and strangled her with the cord of her hooded sweat shirt.

Mezquia was arrested early last year in Miami, after Seattle police "cold case" detectives sought new DNA testing and learned that DNA in traces of saliva found on Zapata's breasts matched DNA in samples taken from the man.

They say it doesn't appear that Zapata knew Mezquia, who was living in Seattle back then, but that she somehow encountered him after leaving a friend's apartment on Capitol Hill.

In the trial that began March 8, jurors were left to consider whether the DNA evidence was enough to show that Mezquia took the young woman's life.

Prosecutors contended that Mezquia bit Zapata during a brutal sexual assault. Mezquia's attorneys suggested that the DNA could have come from contact hours or days before the murder, or that crime-scene contamination occurred -- perhaps by the medics who tried to revive her.

"We talked out scenarios, asking how it possibly could have gotten there," said a juror named Shirley, who declined to give her last name.

"It was terribly hard. Every day we fought, we argued, we cried," said juror Margaret Fey of the panel's two-and-a half days of deliberations.

Meantime, Zapata's family and friends grew increasingly nervous as they watched jurors leave Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday without reaching a verdict.

But yesterday morning, jurors agreed that Mezquia raped Zapata and left her dead and considered both factors in voting to convict him of first-degree murder.

They could have reached the same decision on first-degree murder by finding that he killed her with premeditation, but four of the jurors weren't sure.

Citing the testimony of one medic, a few said the way Zapata's body was found -- arms outstretched, ankles crossed -- raised the possibility that two people carried and dumped her body, which could leave questions about who did what.

Investigators say they don't believe Mezquia, a sturdy man well over 6 feet tall, had help killing the petite singer or would have needed any.

Mezquia's attorneys, George Eppler and James Robinson, initially planned to let jurors hear from a mentally ill man who once claimed that he killed Zapata. They opted against it after the judge said prosecutors could rebut the man's testimony with potentially damaging evidence against their client.

But they told jurors there was no way of knowing how or when the DNA got on Zapata's skin, noting that a trace of saliva could remain intact for hours or even days.

"We're, of course, bitterly disappointed at the jury's verdict, even though they took a significant amount of time in reaching it," Eppler said.

Zapata's father and stepmother, who smiled and wiped away tears at the verdict, declined to speak publicly afterward.

But in a written statement, they thanked the deputy prosecutors, jurors, police detectives Richard Gagnon and Gregg Mixsell, and State Patrol crime lab scientist Jody Sass, who tested the DNA.

"If it had not been for their amazing diligence," they said, "this case could have easily remained unsolved."

Zapata was killed just a few days after The Gits returned to Seattle after a tour of the West Coast.

Other tours were being booked. Big record companies were offering deals.

The band seemed destined for stardom.

Zapata both sang and wrote songs filled with power, rebellion and raw emotion.

It was her voice and love for music that took her from the Ohio college town of Antioch University to the heating punk-rock scene of Seattle, where she rented an old house on Capitol Hill.

Her death left a cavernous hole in Seattle's music scene. But her friends, fans -- and even the investigators who learned about her during their effort to solve her murder -- are convinced that her life and passion won't be forgotten.